


In Theory

by MatchaMochi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Modern magic AU, Shance Holiday Exchange 2019, Theres snow, a teeny weeny bit sad but I tried drowning this with sweetness!!!, fluff and first loves, kinda coffee shop au?, what do you mean this isnt a christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22084975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: 'They take comfort in the silence after. Shiro was just about to introduce himself, wiping a smudge of sauce from his cheeks when the waiter yelps suddenly. Exclaimed that he was late for his meeting and dashes off with a distant ‘See you later!’ shouted to the wind.Years later, Shiro still regrets that he never had the chance to know his name.'-/// Dreams sometimes do come true. ///
Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	In Theory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueLionWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLionWrites/gifts).



> Hi Blue! I absolutely loved the Monster x Scientist AU prompt so I chose that, hope you liked this!

_“I see evil when I look in my shaving mirror. It is, philosophically, present everywhere in the universe in order, apparently, to highlight the existence of good. I think there is more to this theory, but I tend to burst out laughing at this point.”_

_― Terry Pratchett, Unseen Academicals_

He doesn’t feel the cold as much as he feels the warmth. He’s used to it really, his grey skin is accustomed to the harsh weather that would hit his area every time winter comes around. Shiro’s not sure if it’s because of his goblin bloodline or if it’s just from the constant exposure to the storms in the city but it’s been a long time since he’d ever turned on the heater in his apartment.

Today might be an exception. He breathes out a slow, tired sigh, hot puffs of air sneaking out the edges of his fangs. Beside him, he spies an elf frowning at him as he takes out his scarf and sits down on one of the many seats in the diner. And he gets it alright, they weren’t even _nice_ fangs, they jut out at the sides of his mouth. His face, in general, wasn’t that nice.

His eyes are yellow for starters, his jaw more squarish than it was sharp, and he has a long scar across his nose, jagged at the ends. His nails are long no matter how many times he clips them, his prosthetic arm is an old rusty thing that squeaks if he moves too fast, his hair is cut short and grey as ash. 

He’s so, so tired though. And he knows too that no one like him would frequent this part of town, knows that the elves, humans, and fairies had only said they’d let them mingle but would mostly turn up their nose if they ever see his kind walking alone.

He calls for the waiter, and he doesn’t look up when he orders his food from the menu. Work had been taxing, and all he wants to do is lie down on his bed and preferably hibernate for a week. 

He gets his medium-rare steak and it’s such a relief since he hasn’t eaten lunch before this so he could feel his mouth water by the smell alone. And here comes that waiter again, all bright smiles and cheerful tone. Shiro’s never seen eyes that shade of blue before.

Shiro also never had anyone glaring at him like that before. And _then,_

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be _mud eater?_ ”

Which, in theory, isn’t actually wrong. Shiro scrunches his nose. Biologically, he isn’t that different from the trolls or giants who are scientifically proven to have elements of the earth in their skin. In traditional myths too; he is pulled from the wet soil with his other brothers and sisters. But then again, they say humans are also moulded from clay. What are they then, mud people?

He’s straying from the point though.

The point now is the elf from before who’s sporting an ugly scowl, disgust making his beautiful face, well, less so. The elf goes on,

“Isn’t it enough to have all of you roaming around the city? Do I have to _eat_ in front of-”

Four things happen in quick succession then, and all the while Shiro stares as the whirling drama unfolds, surprised and a bit overwhelmed.

First, the waiter (who has warm, dark skin and short, soft-looking hair…. he’s just noting this you see,) who had been smiling at him so warmly turns to the elf and smiles like he wanted to stab someone. 

“Excuse me?”

Icy cold, but polite. Then the elf says, 

“ _Fuck off human-_ ”

Second, the waiter rolls his sleeves up, very, very slowly. Shiro distantly remembers appreciating the definition of his biceps from afar. The elf goes off on his bigoted tirade on segregation and laws abide by the public and whatnot when-

 _Third,_ the waiter clears his throat and promptly delivers a wild punch aimed at the elf. The restaurant has gone silent, Shiro gapes as he follows the wide arch of the punch landing accurately in the middle of the elf’s face. As it lands, everyone around them groans as they hear the crack and thud. The elf’s nose is surely broken, the waiter has a triumphant smile but is nursing his bruised hand to his chest. The golden blood dripping from his fingers are not his own.

And lastly, it all comes to a standstill as the manager comes out from the back, a nymph with blazing red hair who stares at the waiter (who grins back at her), then she stares at Shiro, and finally to the elf slumped on the ground. She takes a deep breath,

“Out.”

And barks out, “ _All three of you- OUT!_ ”

And that’s how he ended up here, snowstorm still raging on, the waiter and Shiro ducked under the roof outside of the restaurant munching on the steak the waiter managed to grab and wrap up before they were thrown out. Apparently, this is his life.

“I’d probably won’t be able to work there anymore,” the waiter was saying, “I never wanted to anyway, my research is just taking longer than usual, and the bills here just keep on coming, don’t they? Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m very, _very_ sorry this happened. I hate that I had to interrupt your dinner like that I-”

“Thank you.”

The waiter stops short in his ramble, looks up at Shiro in surprise. 

“What?”

Shiro shakes his head, offers a hesitant smile,

“No one had ever stood up for me like that.”

The storm has calmed a little now, snow floats down, dancing in the air. Shiro wants to sleep, feels like his eyes could fall shut at any moment. He remembers what the waiter says next though, clear as day.

“Your welcome.” and, “Just wait, someday I- I'll change this, I’ll change _all_ of this.”

They take comfort in the silence after. Shiro was just about to introduce himself, wiping a smudge of sauce from his cheeks when the waiter yelps suddenly. Exclaimed that he was late for his meeting and dashes off with a distant ‘ _See you later!_ ’ shouted to the wind.

Years later, Shiro still regrets that he never had the chance to know his name.

-

-

-

It’s different now, _he’s_ different now. 

No one calls him ‘Shiro’ anymore, now it’s ‘ _Mr. Shirogane sir how may I help you?’._ He owns a car, and a forty storey building and a whole company stamped in his last name with his trademark ebony lion printed, cast, and burnt at every product his company delivers. 

He’s still busy all hours of the day though, his secretary brings him meetings that he has every hour, the status of his company is updated to him and every single day he remembers a certain shade of blue and the words uttered with such reverence, voice lilting like a dream from a faraway land.

_‘Someday I’ll change this, I’ll change all of this.’_

He fastens the tie in his suit, buttons his sleeves, and combs back his hair. _Takashi Shirogane_ , the only person from the dark magical community to have had ever reached such a height of success. His company caters to them too; medical needs, home appliances, daily upgrades, everything that the vampires, weres, trolls, and ghouls needed and were sorely deprived of. 

He's proud of his accomplishments, of course, it’s just, its-

Shiro sighs, laces his hands together.

It’s _tiring_ sometimes. Does he need a holiday? No, it’s something wedged deep in his heart. He doesn’t know what it is, but he catches himself reminiscing sometimes about the simplicity of his life when all he had was his apartment and his beat-up bicycle. 

He clears his throat. _That is just ungrateful,_ he scolds himself. 

“Shiro? Hey, are you even listening to me?”

The leprechaun sitting across from him pulls their mouth in a grimace, folds their arms together. They sniff at him, brown hair puffing slightly as they look to the side. “ _One_ more time Shiro. If you zone out again, I’m going to put you to sleep _myself_ -”

He sighs, “Look Pidge, I’m sure the prototype will get through the next testing. I’ve always put my trust in Holts Industries, and I know you’re worried, but I think it’s better if you send me the particulars by tonight and I’ll go through them before heading on, sounds good?”

They’re silent for a moment, before Pidge sighs too, high round glasses slipping down their nose. They got up, grabbing their stained whitecoat from the office chair and nods slowly. Before they leave, they look up at Shiro and offers him a soft smile,

“You look drained boss, when’s the last time you got laid?”

Shiro, at the process of getting up too, stumbles a bit, feels the heat at his neck.

“Pidge!”

They cackle, and it echoes down the hall as they shout,

“The Holts building is full of opportunities Shiro, grab them while you still can!”

The door slams shut.

-

-

-

Five minutes later, Shiro meets his chance by accident.

“I am so, _so,_ sorry-”

There’s this sense of familiarity the longer Shiro stares at him, and it’s certainly not because he thinks the blue, half-rimmed glasses on him looks cute. Of course not. It’s his voice maybe, or his messy, soft-looking hair. The smudgy whitecoat or the crooked tie? Ah, maybe it’s the shadows under his eyes, which are this kind of blue he’s never seen before-

Shiro clears his throat, carefully peeling off his jacket so that the wet coffee won’t leak through to his dress shirt. 

“It’s fine, I wasn’t looking where I-”

“No no no man, I saw you, but it’s just been a crazy week here and my damn shoes are lame and broken and my legs wouldn’t listen to me so-”

“Oh no, I mean you don’t owe me any-”

“And you had _coffee_ oh my god, and I’ve gone and spilt it all over you urgh-”

“I’m sure it’s-”

“You know what? Lemme buy you another one, there’s a café down here and I was going there anyway so you wanna come with or?”

Shiro stares at him. He looks to the side, rubbing his right fang with his thumb a bit. And watches how expectant Mister Waiter (for _it is_ Mister Waiter, way back from when he’d only dreamed of the things he had now. Back when he’d thought _he_ was a dream too-) looks. 

He feels that heat again, creeping up to his ears.

“Sure.”

-

-

-

They walk down to the café, and along the way, Shiro finds out that his name was _Lance_ and that he was currently working in Holts Industries as a part of the team that was currently working on the prototype blood filter they designed to imitate different kinds of foods and flavours for the vampiric community. 

‘ _Just another pet project_ ’, Lance had murmured to him. His eyes are bright when he talks about the ideas he’s been meaning to work on, downcast when he bemoans the research he has to do, and Shiro laughs with him too, when they’re seated together with their coffees and Lance tells him about the many accidents he’d encountered during one of his many experiments.

Lance already knows who he is, and Shiro keeps the small blush he sees on his cheeks in his pocket, just for safekeeping. You know, if he needed to feel warm when he was alone at home.

Lance has these long, roughened hands that can’t seem to stop moving; flickering at the tip of his cup, smoothing down the wooden table, running through his brown hair. Lance talks to Shiro and Shiro revels in the way he smiles, dreamy and soft. Lance says, ‘ _I think your fangs are cute,_ ’ and they both blush as it goes silent for a while, the bustle of the café enveloping them both.

Lance…...does not remember him from before.

But it’s perfectly fine since, after that, they exchange numbers, they promise to have coffee whenever they’re both free. 

In his room, Shiro stares outside at his glass walls, the city lights illuminating the night. He reaches out, and just for a moment, his broad grey hands looked as if he could touch the clouds. As if anything he’d do would come true.

-

-

-

Shiro has a crush.

“Soooo let me get this straight. Or not. Whatever-”

“Um,”

“You met ’Mister Waiter’ from like ages ago, and you guys got coffee, and you think he’s funny and cute and hawt and absolutely delish in the I-want-you-on-my-bed and not in the I-think-your-meat-will-taste-nice kind of way, but is there like a difference? or-”

“ _Matt god-_ ”

“And the two of you have been hanging out together, texting each other, eye-fucking each other,”

“We did _not-_ ”

“And! And! You said you’ve been feeling lighter lately! And I’ve never seen you looked this happy before!”

“I-”

“But _now_ you come to my _personal_ garage, in which I was working on a _very_ important model for a _special_ client telling me that you have a problem.”

Shiro sighs, “Matt, come on. You know I wouldn’t come to you for nothing.” They’ve been through too much for that. Besides, Matt’s the only one in the whole city who truly knows Shiro. 

Matt, who has the same brown hair and eyes as Pidge, sniffs at him and wipes the soot from his nose which only serves to spread the blackened dirt to his right cheek. He clears his throat and carefully places a golden wrench down, “Honestly my guy, I don’t see the problem here. You like him, he likes you. Just say it to him, kiss and ba-”

“You don’t know that. I- Matt.” Shiro has his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his tie is loose, and he clasps his hands together, nervous. “He…. I don’t know if he even likes _this_ ,” Shiro gestures to his whole general being.

Matt scoffs at him, “Ass, this is _Lance_ we’re talking about. He’s a human scientist with a knack for magic and he works with _Pidge,_ Shiro. He’s the last person to ever reject you for what you are.”

He doesn’t let the quiet linger for too long when Shiro doesn’t reply. Instead, he ducks down on his rainbow-enhanced aircraft and pulls out a golden spanner, 

“You’re wasting time my friend! Oh yeah, I bumped into Keith on the way back, next time you see loverboy tell him Keith says thank you for making the moon tracker, _not_ wolf-themed-”

-

-

-

He’s going to confess. He _is._ Right after his meeting with Pidge is done. 

That’s not entirely accurate anyway. Their meeting was finished half an hour ago, he was just here because Pidge wanted to whine about something and Shiro was having an internal discussion about just _how_ he was going to tell Lance that he wants to date him-

“It’s- it’s _frustrating_ Shiro,” Pidge was saying, hands clutching their head, mouth twisted in dismay. Shiro had to guide them by putting a hand on their shoulder as they walk through the corridors together, “I’ve told him so many times that it’s possible but it’s dangerous too. That chances of success are slightly above 50% but that doesn’t mean there won’t be repercussions-”

Shiro opens his mouth to ask about it but Pidge cuts him off with a hiss, 

“ _ANCEL-Tech_ has products the dark community has thrived from, has introduced ideas I’ve argued with, taken notes from, and been fascinated with but this- This is just too _risky_ to be introduced to the public,”

“ANCEL-Tech?”

“ _Yes_ Shiro, you’ve always complained to me about how your arm itches sometimes during the day, how the lights in your room hurt your eyes during the night. You can’t help it, it’s already a part of what you are; we’ve ingrained light magic so much in our society and the city no one has ever thought of the alternative.”

He frowns, “You mean,”

“They’re dabbling in dark magic Shiro.” They sigh, “I’m conflicted, and don’t get me wrong, the scientific breakthrough if this is proved to be successful is unimaginable but- but…..research is rarely or, well,” they huff, “ _Never_ done on this and he wants it done by this winter for some reason and- argh!” they glare at something to their right, making one of the interns skitter away in fear, “What I mean to say is; we need more time. And I just don’t understand _why_ he doesn’t want to wait a few more years-”

“Pidge.” Shiro interrupts them, face puzzled, something insisting pushing at the back of his head. As if he’s missing something that should be obvious for him to see, “Who?”

They stare at him for a while, incredulous, before they groan in exasperation, 

“ _Lance_ you idiot _-_ ”

-

-

He lasts three weeks.

-

-

They’re in that coffee shop again, the one where they met and Shiro could first feel himself falling. And at last, he says it. Then, he gets this; Lance surprised face, his shaking head, his mouth, opening and closing. Lance blinks before he says,

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah. Yes. Of course.”

“…. I’m sorry,”

“Why?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest.”

A pause, a slight intake of breath,

“Shiro I’m-”

But Shiro softly cuts him off with a gentle murmur,

“ANCEL-Tech?”

Lance blinks. And he looks pale now.

“How-”

Shiro explains to him about what happened, tells Lance that Pidge only told him because they were too frustrated about something else, that they thought Shiro had already known. 

Shiro also tells him that he’s grateful for what ANCEL-Tech has done, that he could have never imagined that it would be possible but that despite everything he only ever did start falling for Lance before he knew about it. 

That he’s been wondering why Lance has never told him but had been patient enough to wait for Lance, but not patient enough to wait to tell Lance that he loves him.

Lance is silent, head facing down where he’s been tucking his hands under the table all this while. Then, he looks back at Shiro, who’s smiling at him softly, with so much love, his adorable fangs caught on the edges.

Lance has his glasses tucked in his front pocket, but he feels his vision going blurry as Shiro gently pulls Lance's hands from under the table. Shiro's broad and thick grey hands caress the bandages crisscrossed at his slim fingers, over the little scars on his palms, slashed through his nails. Shiro holds his hands as if it’s a priceless treasure and tells him it's alright if he doesn’t want to tell him, in a whisper.

Lance does though. He says,

“People hate dark magic, just because it deals with shadows.”

Shiro sighs and brushes his hands softly, kissing the tips with reverence, 

“No, you and I both know they hate it because anyone who casts it would always have to pay the price.”

Lance laces their hands together, smiles distantly, his eyes looking far away, “I remember you Shiro, and I don’t know if you remember me but ever since we met, I’ve done everything to make it this far. I can’t stop now, you understand right? I…I’ve felt this sense of loneliness before. Like I never really belonged. And I never wanted anyone else to feel like that.”

He squeezes their joined hands, smiles a bit more sincerely to Shiro, “I’d argue with Pidge about magic and science, about how they _aren’t_ separate, that they’re just two sides of the same coin, but in the end we’ve always agreed that working on this meant that we could change the future- and we only needed to take that chance.”

Lance sighs, and traces their hands with his eyes, “I was…. scared. Afraid that you might not feel comfortable with what I do, with what I’m working on.”

Shiro laughs, “ _I_ was afraid you wouldn’t feel comfortable going out with an orc in a suit.” Lance raises his eyebrows at that, “Hey there’s nothing wrong with that! Besides, you look _dashing_ , make me melt every time you walk through that door Shiro,” Shiro blushes, says,

“You’re brilliant Lance, I would never want you to stop what you’re doing.”

And it’s a quiet, fragile, nervous thing. But it comes out all the same from a building smile that stretches as wide as the sun.

“ _Thank you._ ”

They don’t stop holding hands until they’re outside. They kiss, softly at first, then more firmly, after Lance decided that he wanted to stay at Shiro’s place. And by next morning, they’re entwined in bed, hands laced together as if it won’t ever part.

-

-

-

-

On Christmas, Shiro gives Lance those nice shoes he’d always wanted, and Lance gives Shiro’s arm a new upgrade. Extra ease of movement and reflexes specially made with the strength and physique of an orc in mind, infused with his own brand of dark magic.

There are words written under the ANCEL-Tech logo, glowing at times and it says, ‘ _Integrated with the latest magic science has to offer’_ and right beside it is two hearts, shining in silver and blue.

- _fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> Lance and pidge definitely have scholarly showdowns every wednesday night in the parking lot. Several papers are torn, and a few choice words are thrown in the air. Sometimes keith joins in siding with whoever he thinks is right. Coran and allura are elves who are occasionally roped in as the mediators. Shiro becomes lance number one supporter. Hunk is one of their audience that gradually grows after he invites his other troll friends. They get a noise complaint from colleen. Its fine tho, they always get waffles together after 😊 
> 
> I’m sorry if it was a bit sad in the end, I hope the fluffs made up for that! Thanks for reading :3
> 
> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazydurians)! and check out my other [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/works) too! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!


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